Summer of Cormorants and Green Herons

Summer of cormorants and green herons: 

late spring, just on the verge of summer, with mornings still crisp and the days not yet reaching that point of heat where the local wildlife retreats until only a slight cooler evening - my walks began to focus on my nearby pond, a cormorant was spotted for the first time in memory,. A fascinating bird, almost prehistoric in appearance, and I was drawn to search her out each morning, even a glimpse on a small flowered island was enough to satisfy my fascination with this bird. As well, at least two green herons were now frequently seen, equally curious in appearance as the cormorant, and not birds that were often seen here. My walks now focused on the pond, skirting along the edge, becoming familiar with the habits of my visiting friends. It became the summer of cormorants and green herons, a focal point, and I loved the search almost as much as sighting them. 

as summer eased into fall, the cormorant being first to leave the pond, early on, perhaps heading north for a cooler climate before her eventual winter migration to the south. Soon after and the greens herons were seen less frequently, although their distance cousin, a great blue heron, is still around and makes an occasional appearance. Autumn has now shifted into something other, a new bird has been calling for my attention, drawing me out even earlier than before, hours before even a hint of dawn. My mornings have been spent track owls by sound, following their calls to a particular tree and then basking in the wildness of their company. The summer of cormorants and green herons has become the autumn of barred owls, gaining my attention and changing my habits to suit their nocturnal habits. 

I've read that barred owls are even more active in winter, especially in February and early March as they search for mates and begin to settle into nests for the birth of owlets in later spring. So I have many more months of tracking owls, and then perhaps another summer of cormorants and green herons will begin and then I'll expand my walks for their inclusions once more. Really though, my curiosity knows no bounds, my attention is always drawn towards the wild, even in the midst of a suburban landscape there's a wilderness that calls to me. 

winter is fast approaching, 

 and curious,

I wonder what my walks will then reveal...

and how life will change to suit another calling. 

~

Peace, Eric 

 

Child's Pose

Child's pose: 

balasana, child's pose, truly an innocent, gentle asana, almost inconspicuous in its presence among so many more dramatic postures such as the beauty and balance of a headstand or the long grace of standing bow. Yet there's much here in this pose, a simplicity and compact economy that allows us to sink within its hold, unwinding long held tensions through the entire length of spine. This also makes it a very emotional posture, for me at least, and recently it somehow became triggering for mild anxiety in the initial moments of my sinking into the pose. This especially seemed to happen if I approached it too soon after any posture that elevated my heart rate, or my breathing being slightly unsettled - there would be a rush of heat, panic, that quickly urged me to abandon the asana until I could compose myself and face the posture with a greater sense of ease. 

it seemed the child's pose is not always so innocent for me. 

so my practice is to begin to sit with this, not to unpack it's origin or cause, but to ride the breath along the edge of this anxiety and see exactly where it might bring me. It's not my wish to induce panic, nor to attempt to understand it - I only want to sit with it for an increasing time, slowly befriending it with my breath, slighting taming it through attention, bringing a sense of love to this wild edge of panic. From here I simply let the posture take hold, allowing the original innocence of a child's pose to take hold, my own initial point of security before the world seemed to turn so threatening.

sometimes I'm successful, setting deeply within the posture, breath evening from the ragged edge of panic to a more soothing rate, slow, comforting. It becomes a true resting point for me. There are other times when I quickly abandon the pose, not being quite ready to ride the breath all the way through to healing. It's just too much for me, anxiety rushing all at once to greet me. So I work with what I have, each session different, not knowing what to expect, yet I'm prepared to accept whatever the posture offers, no matter the length of time that I might hold it.  

often, it's only for a breath. 

not very long at all. 

but it doesn't really matter, it's not a battleground, there's no rush to heal, nor to confront some hidden demon from my past that hides along the energy centers of the spine. My approach is enough, bringing me to exactly where I need to be. Every time. No further.

I meet the posture here.

always. 

and whatever it might hold for me. 

~

Peace, Eric 

Each Asana

Each asana: 

there's beauty in each asana, maybe not one of mine specifically, at least not at at certain moments, but inherently so, and my only real role is to uncover it's grace through the art of breath and posture. Reveling myself as essential to its beauty. 

yoga is most truly an art form. 

and through my practice I become the medium for its expression,

initially, I thought myself the artist, that it was through my effort that the inherent beauty of the posture was shown. Yet lately it's become known that I am simply part of this expression, an aspect of this spectacular design meant to be displayed briefly through the pose. Through my practice I've become art, a display of energy achieving the momentary appearance of stillness. 

a still life.

and then once more to motion. 

it's a whole new practice for me now, committing myself to each asana as a larger expression than just a pose. I am part of something more meaningful than a routine of yoga, beyond a mere stretch, deeper, and I allow myself to be directed by the mystery of breath and each asana. The question now becomes how should I be shown, what's the medium for this posture? 

and the answer is always found in its display.

however it might unfold. 

each asana is perfect.

beautiful.

inherently so.

~

Peace, Eric 

Nirodha

Nirodha:

nirodha, the word itself means cessation or restraint, and it's often referred to as the very definition of yoga, and being the only real goal that a yogi's seeking to attain. It's really a bit of a paradox though, as when we strive hard for this specif state of stillness we often chase it further away, our concentration locked onto something not present and we end up missing the very process of its attainment. Nirodha is more aptly a revelation rather than an achievement. It's revealed to us as the reality of a very still and quiet mind, one brought to focus on a singular act even as the busy motion of the world continues. Nothing is really restrained, and the only thing that ceases is our distractions, all of the infinite little things that seem to pull us towards a busy and unfulfilled life. 

nirodha is the ceasing of our suffering. 

what often happens is that yoga provides a taste of this reality, a moment of poise and balance as an asana is held just right and it seems the entire world drops away. With this glimpse of a concentrated state we're off and running in full pursuit of something special, our entire practiced not aimed in this direction. But what's forgotten is that magic is always here, present right now, and doesn't need to be attained. Our practice is nirodha, already occurring withing the stillness of the mind. We're just too busy, distracted by so many little things that we fail to give it notice. 

until reveled through the grace of our practice. 

and that's the true value of our practice, simply showing up each day for the value of being present, surrendering ourselves to the very process of surrender. Through our practice nirodha is revealed as the underlying reality that allows for motion, not really a state of stillness, but being the energetic potentiality for life to happen. To chase this would be to miss it entirely, even as it's ever present. Our practice is just the means for us to finally give it notice. 

even if only briefly

 through the grace offered by a pose. 

~

Peace, Eric 

Sthira Sukham Asana

Sthira Sukham Asana: 

with Sanskrit I find the most common translation and accepted meaning quiet readily, especially in the many popular books and sacred texts that have been brought to the English language so often through the years. What's fun for me, while also providing a much deeper understanding of the words, is to search a bit more for the literal meaning, or perhaps even a favorite translation from certain commentaries that I admire. A current example are The Yoga Sutras of Patanjali, with many translations offered, some being classic now, having stood the test of time by use of students and examination of scholars. For now I won't list favorites, but I will give the particular sutra as well as the literal translation that has captured my imagination - Sthira Sukham Asana, Sutra 2:46, which offers the usual meaning as Asana is a steady, comfortable posture. Quite easy to understand. Yet what Patanjali is teaching here isn't the yoga of modern terms, it;s far deeper than simply stretching and holding a posture. 

he's offering us a state of mind to explore. 

something found through the steadiness of our bodies. 

if only only briefly. 

I love this sutra, it's my first and only mantra upon approaching every posture, holding fast to the more literal translation - which is to resolutely abide in a good space.  Broken down further in meaning, bringing just three words to my attention, and Patanjali has this to offer...

steadiness, sweetness, posture. 

sthira sukha asana.

and that's the true teaching of yoga, that every moment holds a sweetness of space no matter what's currently found. It simply comes down to our approach, having a willingness to hold steady and explore whats's present right now, being unafraid of falling from life's posture. I;m beginning to find the sweetness of even the shakiest asanas, a glimpse, momentary poise, and then quickly falling from this grace. But I know it's there, always, throughout what every life offers. 

sthira sukha asana. 

through approaching life with just a hint of steadiness...

there's sweetness found. 

~

Peace, Eric 

By a Few Degrees

By a few degrees: 

largely, I believe, it's been less about seeking ultimate answers and really just to make myself happier by a few degrees. It's not that I didn't have concerns for the big questions, as somehow I've always seemed to know that happiness and the mystery of the self were intimately connected, that if I could retrace myself back to the source of my true identity I would find an unwavering sense of joy. 

but now I've settled on mystery,

and simply being happier by a few degrees.

really though, that's no small thing, having the easy pleasure of my yoga and meditation practice without adding anything other than my commitment to their calling, being offered nothing but a long stretch of postures and sitting in a deep interior silence, no search for anything beyond these precious moments. It's been more than enough for me, honestly, it's exactly what I've needed. 

relaxing in the joy of being.

and happier by a few degrees.

and of course I've always known this, yet it was so deeply hidden that it took years of searching for me to finally remember where the answer resides. What I had come to believe was that my practice was to be an achievement of some sort, reaching for an end result, and that I would ultimately receive the prize of understanding myself, enlightenment. What's happen is actually the opposite of this, my quest has been surrendered to the moment, joy is found here, right in the possibility of an asana, balancing, perhaps just an instance of poise before the posture's ending. Sitting in meditation is no longer a reach for silence, it's a process of settling into the natural quiet that's always found, easily, as if I'm finally coming home. And I am...

it's been here all along. 

~

Peace, Eric 

Liberation

Liberation: 

yoga appeals to me because of it's unique ability to bring about a change at my most fundamental level of being, that it's not just the means of an awakening, but a deep release of all that's false about myself, and that I then reside within a larger sense of liberation. There's a sharp distinction here, with awakening being an initial step in seeing reality in its bare essence, and then liberation is the transformation that occurs through the practice of living from there. 

for me,

yoga is that practice. 

of course not everyone holds this as being true, and I'm not writing these words to convince anyone otherwise, I have no stake in my opinion.  I'm only conveying what seems so to me, of how my own practice continues to deepen and unfold in such treasured and surprising ways. The wonderful thing about our initial awakening is that we then have an entire lifetime to explore our new perspective. Yet it seems so often that we continue to find our behavior tied so immersed within the patterns of personality, still enslaved by our previous conditioning. 

my wish is to be free of being controlled by these patterns.

of at least to be aware of how them. 

and it seems that's enough for transformation to occur, or it's a beginning. With just a little light shown on these patterns they seem to lesson their hold, a sense of ease pervades, and I'm not pushed and pulled by the strong winds of my opinions and desires. My beliefs are held a bit more lightly now, no longer forced upon myself nor insisted onto others. I haven't reached nirodha, cessation of the fluctuating of mind, yet I am often a witness to their play now, smiling as I feel the strong pull in their direction. What I am is simply aware of their presence, how deeply their ingrained as an aspect of my personality. My practice isn't to remove these patterns, but just to note how they seem to leap from nowhere to the forefront of my mind. My practice is that smile of recognition - even if it occurs after my reaction to their call.  

and with this...

somehow,

I'm transformed. 

~

Peace, Eric 

Outskirts of a Tropical Storm

Outskirts of a tropical storm: 

outskirts of a tropical storm this morning, just the edge making its way here, but it's enough to make for miserable conditions on my predawn walk. There won't be owls to track this morning, doubtful I'll find fox prowling or deer waking for their early graze. But there'll be nature in its fierce show, steady rain and forceful wind. I'll take it all in, it's a short walk, a few miles, and it's not for me to choose the right conditions, walking only when the weather suits my mood or preference. 

I walk to place myself in the thick of nature. 

even in the suburbs.

and the outskirts of a tropical storm. 

I don't take storms lightly, not even being on the edge of one, as I damage they may cause and the loss they often bring. I'm fortunate to live in an area of relative safety, to a secure home, and that I will be warm when I return home. There are many who don't enjoy this same good fortune and I take my steps with this awareness in mind. This walk will bring me to focus on all I should be grateful for and yet so often take for granted. It's a luxury, even as it's needed for my peace of mind, that these early morning walks return me to my own essential nature, healing me, quieting my mind. 

and yet my heart goes out to those who suffer who suffer the effects of this storm, to those who don't have the same luxury of returning to a safe and warm home. 

this walk reminds me that I'm fortunate indeed. 

 so I step outside, it's only a few miles, not far from home and I have a suburban landscape that threads through a wilderness of streams, ponds, and scattered woods. I find nature just by stepping from my door, waiting for me, greeting me this morning with wind and rain. It's not my preference, but than I never really get to choose, only to accept whatever nature offers me. 

right now, 

it's the outskirts of a tropical storm. 

and I accept it all.

~

Peace, Eric 

Older

Older: 

older now, and I find myself less inclined towards certain things that once had a great pull for my participation. There's been a definite shift of energy, not so much a lessening, but just a change in how I wish to invest it, a quieter burn to my passions. I feel as if I'm in retreat from the world, and yet having an overwhelming love affair with life as well. A paradox perhaps. It's the best that I can do to explain it - and being older now, I'm less inclined to offer an explanation of my every contradiction and simply accept myself as I'm found. 

ever changing.

shifting.

a new expression being shown. 

I'm sure the recent pandemic pushed me in slight retreat, and my fathers death caused me to examine my priorities and the energy spent on things that now seemed a bit diminished. Really though, it's more of a call towards an interior life, simplicity, living a life of bare essence without need to chase the goals that once held such great importance. It's not that I love anything less than before, or that I don't foresee myself ever emerging from this inner retreat and participating once more in an outward expression of life. But at this point it just doesn't seem a possibility, it would be forced, uncomfortable, and worse, completely unauthentic to who I am right now. 

and older, I'm less inclined to being anything other than myself. 

whoever that might actual be. 

~

Peace, Eric 

A Conspiracy

for me, there's just one conspiracy theory that really matter and it's largely been ignored. Really it's the greatest of all, the one with the most hidden implications that would drastically change our lives if finally exposed. The conspiracy is in not knowing who we are and that we've been manipulated to keep the truth from reaching us, being ignorant of the forces at play here. This is what yoga calls the kleshas, five afflictions that keep us trapped in avidya, ignorance of who really are, and that the larger forces of attraction and aversions manipulate our every actions. 

it's a conspiracy against our liberation. 

and entirely of our own making. 

but not one we willing chose, it's simply how the brain works to categorize the vast amount of information that it constantly receives, so much, that if left to do this on our own we would be quickly overwhelmed by the task at hand. We could liken the kleshas to clouds that begin to crowd the sky, eventually covering so much area that we're no longer able to view the blue of its reality. We come to believe that the clouds control the sky, and indeed, even the sky buys into this conspiracy, abdicating its ability to respond to passing clouds, reacting to their every issue and command. 

no longer knowing itself as clear and free. 

trapped by the clouds of kleshas. 

ignorant of its true nature. 

a conspiracy. 

and here's where we find ourselves, trapped by kleshas, prisoners of our own mind. Of course the mind is just doing its job, protecting us, keeping us safe from harm and being overwhelmed by so much information. Troubles arise only by our forgetfulness, that we begin to identify firmly with the passing clouds of our aversions and attractions, taking them to be the reality of who we are. 

forgetting our blue sky nature. 

yoga offers us a path of seeing, of recovering ourselves, remembering our true nature. It lays the conspiracy gently at our feet and urges us to now step clear and meet reality directly. There's no real conspiracy against us, we're simply lost in vastness of our own minds, believing in the solidness of passing clouds, latching on to them in hope that they will guide us. Yet always disappointed as they fade away, illusions after all, and causing no small degree of suffering. 

yoga is our return. 

one path of many. 

but clear in it's direction. 

~

Peace, Eric 

Avidya

Avidya: 

yoga really is the art of relaxing in the very moment we feel less able too, sinking into the pose, or even a situation that causes us discomfort. In yogic psychology this is exploring the kleshas, of the afflictions that keep us trapped in ignorance, unaware of how we're manipulated by the forces of aversion and attraction. The Yoga Sutras of Patanjali outlines five kleshas that rule our world, with the first and most important being ignorance, as without awareness to our condition we're never able to truly relax and find ourselves st home within our bodies. This is avidya, ignorance, simply being unaware that we are controlled by forces of the mind, trapped in the suffering of our very own cause. 

yoga offers freedom. 

for me, I experience the kleshas in every practice, having a strong attraction to certain postures that I'm good add and find easy, how my ego plays up my accomplishments here. Just as quickly I'm cast into aversion, having a desire to skip past the poses that cause fear and discomfort in their practice. And all of this takes place in avidya, my own delusions of their cause. The amazing thing is that with just a little awareness of why this all occurs and I gain an immense amount of freedom, not liberated from my suffering, but finding myself relaxed within my body, feeling more at home here. 

exactly where I am. 

whatever posture I seek to hold. 

and this carries so quickly off the mat, everything becomes yoga, an exploration into every present situation and the afflictions that they hold. It's all naturally occurring, gentle, just a moment of clarity offered through the avidya haze. Simply seeing this, aware, and I'm somewhat more relaxed, at ease with what the moment offers. This is the trade of my reactionary response, based upon any one of the kleshas, and a more responsive approach to life, no longer being controlled solely by aversions or attraction, no longer ignorant of their cause. 

I'm now practicing yoga everywhere. 

~

Peace, Eric 

Yoga of My Commitment

Yoga of my commitment: 

the importance is practice, keeping it simply, and being able to commit to it on a regular basis, with daily being best. With this being the case, I really don't believe that we need an hour plus yoga session everyday, although that's fine if that time can be afforded. Personally, I'm a fan of micro-practices, 20 minutes to start the day and then follow it up later with even a few poses to remind the body of my commitment to being a yogi. This also brings a sense of reverence to my day, a ritual that breaks up the mundane and allows the sacred to show through. 

it's the yoga of my commitment. 

this is the same way that I close out my day, a short practice designed to prepare me for long hours of sleep, easing any tightness of mind or body that has accumulated through the day. It's usually less than 15 minutes, although sometimes more involved as my body tells me exactly what it needs. These shorter sessions teach me to listen closely to these concerns. The body has a voice that's seldom heard unless given a moment of intimate attention, and the yoga of commitment lends itself to listening and then offering a compassionate response, caring deeply for its every need. 

for me, I have more free time than many others, so my afternoon practice is devoted at length to healing and opening myself up to a sense of lightness and care. But even with this I've streamlined my sessions to the postures that work best for me, addressing particular issues that are asking for attentions. I am fortunate to have this time and have come to guard it closely, no longer performing postures for the sake of proving what my body can do, not wishing  to involve ego in my practice. Every pose has the purpose of revealing something to me, bringing to surface what's been locked deep within my body and now needs to be exposed to the light of this practice. 

that's the yoga of my commitment, healing the ancient wounds of life that are held so deep through the fabric of my body, long neglected by the mind...

and now simply offer a moment of my care. 

it's the yoga of compassion. 

~

Peace, Eric 

Of Effort

Of effort: 

it often seems that I'm bring a lifetime of effort to bear on certain asanas, finding postures that are difficult for me and then I apply myself to their achievement. Of course this isn't true yoga, or at least not according to Patanjali who urges us in his Yoga Sutras to use least effort in our poses, just the right amount of focus to achieve steadiness of breath and body, our mind calm, and with that we move on to the very next asana. At no point is there any mention of strain and the mental anguish of striving for a successful pose. It's simply isn't necessary at all - and yet a lifetime of effort seems to be my habit. 

even causing me to strive in my surrender. 

realizing this, I have to smile, no habit has to be forever, and with this I'm able to relax and let go completely, if only for a moment, poised within the pose. 

just the right amount of effort. 

for me, the essence of practice is summed up in the second and third of Patanjali's sutras - yoga is to still the patterns of consciousness, and that in this way pure awareness can abide in it's own nature, undisturbed by any effort through my striving. It was a lesson that took me some time to learn in meditation, giving undue concentration to my mantra and never quite settling into the calm stillness of my mind. With proper guidance I finally began to let go, surrendering to the already present silence, naturally, easily, with only the least amount of effort needed. 

yet asanas proved more difficult. 

mainly, because I'm used to pushing myself physically, working hard to achieve a particular goal. This carried over in my practice, reaching for that extra length, holding a posture for a little longer than before, almost as if each session was an event, some sort of competition playing through my head. Patanjali urges me to let go, to give just the right amount of effort to each pose and then move on. Yoga isn't about perfection, there's no achievement here, but only a true and deep surrender, 

realizing this...

I have to smile. 

easing easily into my next asana. 

poised. 

~

Peace, Eric 

Accustomed to the Dark

Accustomed to the dark: 

my morning walks are well before dawn, still an hour or so before sunrise, and much of path is darkened even more as it winds through some deeper woods. I'm growing accustomed to the dark, carry a small handheld flashlight for when absolutely needed, but I prefer to let my eyes adjust to the conditions of each step, going no faster than my sight allows. Of course this often brings a slower pace, my steps tentative until my eyes make the necessary adjustments. Yet there is so much more to gain through natural darkness, noting how the path emerges to my view without the slightest disturbance of light, my steps gaining a sense of surety as they proceed, and the night begins to feel like home. 

that I'm growing accustomed to the dark. 

 I'm always hesitant to use my light, even if it's to catch a glimpse of a long awaited animal I've been eager to sight. I've been night stalking owls and foxes, hopeful of spotting the ever elusive suburban coyote that's said to prowl my neighborhood. My goal is to meet them on their terms, not to blind them with a sharp light just for the benefit of an easier show. I'm in their territory, these are their hours and I'll be an intruder for as long as I try to make the night bend to my own terms and limited vision, bringing false light to their home of darkness. 

and so I allow myself to grow accustom to the dark,

feeling more at home here. 

almost as if it's my territory as well. 

years ago I cam across the description of something called the gait of power, a method taught to Carlos Castaneda by his mentor Don Juan. The details of this method escape me now, but what I remember is that there's a special way of moving through darkness, of joining myself to the power of the night, traveling with a sense of ease and keen awareness. My early morning adventures seem to be a desire to regain this dark power,  rejoining myself to the night, no longer relying on the false security that a small light provides me.

traveling with ease and keen awareness.

accustomed to the dark.

~

Peace, Eric 

To Find Me

To Find me: 

I'm always grateful for words, early morning writing, coffee at hand, and my first assignment is simply waiting, patiently, allowing words to reach me here, completely on their own. I'm in no rush for inspiration, as it knows exactly where to find me. 

every morning. 

it occurred to me, many years ago, that much of writing is really waiting for words to arrive, or maybe just the right words, the magical ones that set off in a current for others to follow. That's when writing flows with little interruption, no long pause for thoughts to gather, but fingers flying in a rush and tap against the keyboards. 

magic. 

and yet, and this was my insight, it's those long pauses, spaciousness, that allow for magic this magic to happen. In truth, they're not separate events, it's all writing, from preparation of coffee to first sip and everything that follows after. Writing is seamless in this way and I've learned to trust the process, knowing that I'm not completely in charge of how my writing will flow, it's beyond my ability to control. It's actually better this way too, as trusting in inspiration allows me to relax, sip my coffee, and patiently wait for those magical words to find me. 

and they always do. 

every morning. 

Peace, Eric 

Absence of Words

Absence of words: 

I simply let the ideas come to me, sometimes it's just a word to start me out and an entire theme builds from there. Often it will be a vague concept that wishes to make itself known to me, and my only role is to provide the means for its expression. But generally, nothing is forced, there's no stress involved in my writing and if the first inkling of strain appears I will immediately surrender to the absence of words, patiently, allowing myself to sit in silence and wait for words to find me. 

and they always find me here.

exactly where I am.

there was a time when writing was worrisome, often coming to the page with a slight fear that my imagination might fail me, or at a critical time of writing I would suddenly be struck by silence, unable to continue working on some idea. It's amusing now to consider my fear of writers block being the very cause of failure. However, that was surely the case, that I was my own worse enemy as far as inspiration goes, petitioning for its appearance but always on my terms. Or really, by my demand, being so full of myself that I could possibly believe that inspiration would obey my command. What I really believed was that I was in charge, master of my imagination, and that I could force words to appear by virtue of my own special talent - and of course I was left frustrated, feeling abandoned by my talent. 

bereft of inspiration. 

afraid of the absence of words...

and being left with the silence that remains. 

I'm not really sure how things changed, it just seems that a large amount of self-importance has vanished and along with it all of my previous demands and conditions placed on inspiration. I no longer write on my terms alone, cooperating now with silence, knowing how it's so intimately connected to the appearance of ideas. There's a larger trust in inspiration, faith, that my only role is to show up each morning, patient, full of curiosity as to whatever might arrive to me, joyfully abiding in silence of its promise. 

that's all I have to do. 

~

Peace, Eric 

The Path

it seems I've stepped back on the path, perhaps a seeker once again, but not with an endpoint in mind, there's no quest here for enlightenment, nor even reaching for a a particular goal. I'm simply exploring what the practice of yoga offers me right now, especially at this point in my life, being older, and perhaps with a bit lower expectations as to where this path might lead me. 

my only wish is to be an honest yogi.

being true to the experience that each moment holds. 

the truth is that I've never fully stepped off the path, even with the realization that it's the very ground I travel that holds my answers and there is no need to continue with a search. It seems there's a deeper realization at hand now, one of breath and posture, a mantra playing through my mind, and all without need of a final destination. I'm simply drawn to my practice,in a way I've never been before, a settled routine of asana and meditation, walking through the woods before dawn, writing - my entire life expressed as yoga. 

it's feels perfect to me right now. 

joyful. 

as if the path spontaneously meets my stride in the very moment a step is taken. 

and surrendering myself to mystery...

I have this moment to explore. 

~

Peace, Eric 

Holy Time

Holy time: 

my holy time is earliest morning, still hours before first light, a deep hush existing as a texture to this time, being felt more so than actually listened too. I love these hours and find myself waking spontaneously even earlier now, drawn from bed from some quiet force that calls for my participation. Once, I would struggle to rise so early, considering it a burned to up before dawn, counting the days until I could sleep in again until the later hours. But I find it a pleasure now, for whatever reason I'm seeking a solitude that can only be found well before dawn. 

I belong fully to these morning hours. 

truly it's a holy time.

and I guard these hours, almost resenting any foreign sound that doesn't seem to belong to the morning, waking early just to escape the possibility of their intrusion. Of course silence itself doesn't mind any particular sound, simply returning to its prior state, seamlessly accepting a blaring television as easily as the dawn chorus of songbirds. I'm more sensitive though, even as I find myself becoming more attuned to this early silence, I'm just not as quick in my return to a sense of interior peacefulness. Not yet anyway, but I do find that I'm becoming permeated by this holy time, lasting longer through the day now, as if existing as a texture to my own mind as well, being always a silent part of me. 

slowly, I'm returning to my prior state.

continuously silent. 

and no effort needed for my return. 

~

Peace, Eric 

Extraordinary

Extraordinary: 

the odd thing is that even though my days have become structured in routine, rituals of practice that take me from earliest morning to just before sunset - it all feels so easy and natural, spontaneous, as if there's never been a moment exactly like this before. Which of course is true, and that realization seems to be the difference for me now, how in the midst of an ordinary routine I am struck by the awareness of how everything is simply arising from a fabric of events, one continuous flow, miraculous. It's extraordinary really, more so, that I've somehow taken all of this for granted, my entire life has been a spontaneous arising and never truly noted. 

extraordinary indeed. 

for me, I believe that it's been the deep immersion into routine that has brought this to my attention. In the midst of what seems an ordinary day, miraculous things are happening, events aligned in a perfect way for just this particular moment, and then flows on to whatever's next to magically occur. My yoga practice brings this sharply into focus, everything blended to a posture, breath, tension, and then instantly relaxing into the pose, timeless, the world is still, silent, before once more easing back to motion. It's a brief pause from my perception of reality, and yet I'm never fully recovered from it, my day has an added charm to it now, clearly seeing how mystery is at play and that I'm a participant in an extraordinary world. 

it's all miraculous really. 

even in the midst of an ordinary routine. 

~

Peace, Eric 

Rearranged

Rearranged: 

as if I'm being rearranged, each particle of my existence held to some divine light, examined, cleansed of any gathered dust of life, and then found worthy again to be my bones and skin. Even my mind has been examined by this light, an entire thinking process reordered in a streamlined fashion. I am remade through hours of asanas, new, something completely other than before - and yet appearing just the same. 

this isn't just a metaphor, yoga transforms us in deeply profound ways, we're literally rewired to be high performance yogis, our bodies channeled to hold a higher light then ever before. Yes, it sounds mysterious, far fetched even, and yet through hours on the mat I see the transformation quite clearly. It's my experience now, I'm living it, and most importantly, this change is being expressed through every aspect of my life. It's not even that I'm seeking change, but being drawn to yoga it's happening just the same, easily, and without my effort to be transformed. 

it's just the result of my practice. 

as if I'm being rearranged. 

restored. 

science is now providing evidence that this is so, studies confirming what every yogi knows. Our bodies, minds, are altered through out practice. It's amazing, and yet science only uses the standard measures of their interest, medical metrics, physiological changes, evaluation of moods and the ability to handle stress in a more creative, healthful manner. All important subjects, vital to our benefits. But what science has yet to show is how our life unfolds once we're rearranged. 

everything is different now. 

it's as if I'm restructured for a higher sense of purpose and meaning, deeply attuned to suffering, my own and for the sake of others. I'm rewired for compassion, empathy...

for love. 

~

Peace, Eric 

Yoga of Circumstance

Yoga of circumstance: 

it's about finally placing ourselves in the right location, we could call it the yoga of circumstance,  or grace aligned, and it's through no small part of simply showing up consistently over time. That's the key to good fortune, skill plays a role of course, as well as right knowledge of the particular situation, and intuition too, having the ability to listen to a deeper sense of wisdom - and it's through this that we literally place ourselves in the most auspicious of occasions. 

every time. 

it's the yoga of circumstance. 

or we could call it good fortune. 

for me it's yoga, union, infinite aspects of life joined in display of this moment, and that I simply find myself in the confluence of these affairs. Fortunate indeed. Yet it is my practice that has brought me here, my patience, showing up through my every wish of what might occur, and then just as easily letting each expectation go and enjoying the sweetness of the moment exactly as it's found. 

with this...everything's auspicious. 

my most recent example is finding myself under an owl tree. For weeks I've traced the owls by sound, showing up close but never quite able to pinpoint a location. I've gathered information on their habits, knowledge of where they like to hunt and rest, steering my walks in their most likely area, frequently pausing to listen for their call. Most often, nothing, only insects, occasionally hearing a car in distance commute, or an early rising heavy footed runner drawing near. But sometimes, if I keep showing up, magic happens. 

I find myself beneath an owl tree. 

happily listening to their calls, 

watching their silhouette framed against the still dark sky, catching them in flight as they return to their hunt. The yoga of circumstance brought me here, with time acting in my favor as a key participant for these events to happen. My morning practice is to show up, walking each morning, placing myself in their most likely location and then simply being patient. What I discover is the joy of practice, that there doesn't have to be a particular reward aside from the pleasure of these early morning outings. That every moment is auspicious, aligned by grace, magical. 

it's all the yoga of circumstance.  

every bit of it. 

~

Peace, Eric 

No Endpoint in Mind

No endpoint in mind: 

with no endpoint in mind, or at least not any longer, and even the original intent seems only like a faint idea. My practice of yoga, meditation, methods of self-inquiry, they're all focused on the act alone, done only for the sake of my enjoyment and the benefits that seamlessly follow their performance. That's become enough for me right now, with a single asana opening me to the entire universe, a breath gaining my complete attention, my mantra's vibration carrying me deep within the once hidden realms of my own existence. If there's anything beyond this it will have to arrive to me here. 

I'm without a search.  

happy. 

even as I face my sorrows. 

and that's my true path of yoga, just meeting life as it is, with an asana being a microcosm of an entire lifetime before coming to this pose, and that I've now been given this moment to finally accept it all, forgiving myself through this ritual of single focus - breathing, holding the posture for an immeasurable instant...abiding in a sense of calm awareness. 

with no endpoint in mind,

everything's accepted. 

exactly as it is. 

~

Peace, Eric 

Pursuing Owls

Pursing owls: 

still pursuing owls, choosing different early hours to walk, all well before sunrise, and sticking close to the edge of water where they're most likely to be found. This has become somewhat of a quest for me, to locate the exact tree an owl calls form and draw as near as possible, phone in hand in case I'm fortunate enough to record their call or perhaps even the opportunity to capture one in photo. It's exciting for me to hear them from a distance and then track them by sound as near as I am able. The few times I've been able to record them clearly have been sheer luck on my end and the courtesy of owls revealing their presence to me, usually when I'm just beneath their resting tree. 

and of course this leaves me wondering how often I'm observed without given any notice, eyes from the woods tracking my wanderings with wary curiosity. I'm sure owls, foxes, and possible my local coyotes have all watched as I've pursued them each morning, possibly amused by my not so stealthy tracking. My every chance encounter has been by grace, no skill on my end other then the endurance to keep walking until I stumble upon them as they're returning from their night hunt. 

it's grace, the curiosity of the animal and no small amount of luck that bring these auspicious occasions to me - and I am always grateful for each encounter. 

so I'm still pursuing owls, and honestly not for a photo opportunity, nor even to record their sound, although I certainly appreciate having these tools at my disposal, and will make use of them if I'm able. Really though, I'm pursuing owls only for their company, their wild sounds thrill me to no end, literally causing my arm hair to rise as their calls intensify. Their presence is enough for me, not even a sighting truly matters as long as I sense that they are near. It's same with my other nocturnal friends, knowing that as long as I am patient, enduring, that they will eventually reveal themselves to me. Pursing owls seems to earn me these auspicious occasions. 

and that's the true purpose of these early hour walks. 

grace, 

being revealed to me. 

~

Peace, Eric 

Yoga Chitta Vritti Nirodha

Yogas  chitta vritti nirodha: 

yoga offers me sudden breakthroughs of both asanas and insights. After months of slowly trying to reach past a long familiar comfort zone, and then to unexpectedly find myself in a deeper position, holding a posture steadier and longer then before - a whole new territory of mind and body to now explore. Yet the point is never about striving, or pushing past that place of comfort. It's as Patanjali offered in his yoga sutras, yogas chitta vritti nirodha, that yoga is the stilling of the mind, not wavering from a firm fixation of whatever posture's being held. 

about finding myself at home...

exactly where I am. 

and that's the true breakthrough, and even though it often might feel as if it happens suddenly, it's actually been a lifetime for me to reach here, and even the briefest moment of this steadiness of mind is an enormous revelation -

that it's always been present. 

but that I've missed this realization though my own actual practice of distractions and demands, using yoga, as well as life, to strive for things that never truly satisfy, always reaching for the next best opportunity and experience. Never really allowing myself to be present, to be home. 

yogas chitta vritti nirodha.

yoga is the practice of being home. 

exactly where we are. 

~

Peace, Eric 

Dukha

dukha, a Sanskrit word that is generally translated as suffering, most commonly thought of in Buddhist terms of the Four Noble Truths, that life is suffering due to its nature of impermanence and our desire to cling to that which is ever changing. A more accurate translation would be of dissatisfaction, life being transitory, never quite being how we would like it, or at least not for very long. Both Buddhism and yoga offer a path for us to escape the notion of dukha, to see the truth of impermanence and no longer seek a lasting hold on the things of the world. 

it's a clear way of seeing. 

and what we see is that life itself isn't suffering, nor is it even unsatisfactory - it's simply an ongoing affair of infinite possibilities, always in motion, changing through each moment. It's only our minds that have a wish to either stop this flow so we can cherish something longer, or to rush life's currents to a more pleasurable place for us to reside. But we never have this control, it's not within our powers to command how life will go, what it gives to us, or how long anything might stay. 

life isn't dukha, 

it's just changing. 

what I love about yoga is that it presents me with a micro perspective of life - that holding an asana for any length of time will reveal a complete cycle of spiritual awakening, from dukha, being dissatisfied with a pose and my current experience, all the way to its apparent opposite, suhkha, the sweetness and ease that the posture eventually reveals to me. Most clearly so in halasana, plow pose, and the challenge of accepting my current limits, just shy of feet reaching the floor behind me, inching closer, yet still far from it's completion. I'm finding myself frustrated with where I am with this posture, striving, never quite satisfied with my experience. 

dukha. 

but the wonderful thing is that this asana is also my awakening, my eight-fold path in a single pose. Too much effort here only pushes me farther from my goal. Not challenging myself keeps me from its completion. There's a sweet spot, a challenge and the acceptance of my current limits, striving and at the very same time completely letting go of my notion for this pose. I perform it within my present capabilities, content with the wisdom of my body and what it reveals to me right now. 

suhkha,

the sweetness of accepting...

whatever it is this moment holds.

~

Peace, Eric 

Our Personal Evolution

Our personal evolution: 

yoga transforms the brain, it's as if there's a continuation of our personal evolution towards a more beneficial lifestyle, a growing connection with our deepest, most compassionate selves. We are becoming who we most truly are. Of course this has been known since ancient times, not spoken of in the scientific language of today, but non the less expressed in similar fashion - yoga is our personal evolution towards our greatest potential. 

and science bears this out. 

it's long been known that yoga reduces anxiety and stress, eases depression, calming and centering the mind. Yet research today also reveals that yoga actually strengthens the brain, with cells forming new connections that result in improved cognitive skills, our learning and memory enhanced through its practice. Parts of the brain that play vital roles in memory, attention, and language are strengthen by our time on the yoga mat. We quite literally continue to evolve. 

yoga has been shown to be therapeutic, being a viable means of navigating through depression and anxiety. My personal experience has shown this to be so, not as any type of cure, but as a life preserves through some of my darkest times. What's yet to be studied, at least in a science lab, is how yoga grows our sense of compassion, expanding the heart center until it touches the corners of our world that have been long ignored and close to forgotten. 

yoga teaches us to remember who we are. 

our personal evolution continues through its practice. 

and the world benefits by our effort. 

~

Peace, Eric 

Somehow Transformed

Somehow transformed: 

yoga is a means of transformation, or so it has been for me. Oddly though, I'm more myself now than ever before, comfortable in my skin, at ease with who I truly am. Somehow transformed with little effort given to the process. It just seemed to happen on its own. This is why I often say that yoga isn't the best path for seekers or those wishing for a means of self improvement - really, it doesn't seem to be a path at all, with no destination point to be measured from the initial starting pose. It's a journey that takes place only through the landscape of breath and mind, whatever asana that's presently holding my attention. There's no real travel outside of this awareness. 

it's always exactly where I am. 

and so the transformation happens without my interference, it's the art of just the right amount of effort given to a pose and then an immediate surrender to the grace of breath and mindful attention. Sometimes, there's a gift of poise, a moment where the pose is held beyond the point of gravity's pull, balancing, pure, and even its release seems to be a gentle call for my return to the ground of pure existence. It's magical, a gift from mystery. Yet most often, it feels there's little grace involved, gravity being weighed against me and causing my sense of struggle. 

there's a balance here as well. 

that's how I'm transformed, simply by accepting each moment and asana as it's offered. Even the struggle through this acceptance is part of my transformation. Everything belongs.  In a more true sense, it might be better to say that I'm not so much transformed as I am revealed, that each asana shows me the reality of breath and mind, continuously drawing my attention to the exact moment that I hold the pose. 

every asana reveals just a bit more of reality.

and through gently. continuously returning to this seeing..

I'm somehow transformed. 

~

Peace, Eric 

Return to Savasana

 

Return to savasana:

let’s return to savasana, resting, allowing the tension of our previous experience settle and then easily slip to past. This is always our return, it’s the heart of our practice, an extended period of being present with breath and the body’s touch against the ground. It’s called the corpse pose for this very reason, that we allow the body to return to its earth roots and with ours minds reaching ever deeper states of quietness — until it seems we barely exist at all.

we’re simply being.

in Hatha Yoga we always return to savasana. It’s our starting point and then revisited through the entire practice, a repose of awareness that allows the benefits of our previous postures to take hold. Many consider this the most challenging of all asanas because of this return, surrendering the stress of a hard earned posture for a moment of complete surrender. This is a very difficult request, being asked to let go of striving to reach and hold a pose and then immediately surrender its rewards.

but that’s the very value of returning to savasana.

just letting go.

in many spiritual traditions there the teaching that we must learn to die before we actually die, meaning that we’ve learned this art of surrendering now, each moment being allowed to express itself fully and then becoming something other than before. That’s our return to savasana, we’re dying to the past of every previous pose, and yet still retaining their many benefits, and more so, we’ve gained an expanded sense of awareness now.

we’re present.

and from here…

continuously reborn to whatever the next posture offers.

savasana allows for everything that follows.

~

Peace, Eric

Of Natural Darkness

 

Of natural darkness:

as my walks have become earlier in the morning now, hours before sunrise, I’ve begun to notice the almost total lack of darkeness, and that even the light once offered by stars and moon has dimmed to a dull glow, their shine dampened by the excess light of the world and our growing need to stay busy. It seems we’ve lost most of our natural night, replaced by the constant glare of an ever active world.

the shine of stars and moon have faded in competition to artificial light.

they no longer illuminate our skies.

we’ve lost our love of natural darkness.

as well, our circadian rhythms are out of sync with the pattern of light and darkness, as we were once part of an organic cycle that governed our bodies and mood, and that now we reply almost entirely on artificial means to wake us, or being lulled to deep sleep. As well we’ve disrupted the lives of plants and animals, causing drastic change in their behavior, no longer influenced by the comfort of natural darkness.

our love of artificial light has changed every aspect of the world.

and sadly, not for its benefit.

we’ve lost more than ever gained.

our night skies have fallen out of favor.

and we are so much the less for it.

~

Peace, Eric

Of Natural Darkness

Headless Now

Lyrical Prose

Artificial Light

Of Transformation

 

Of transformation:

yoga is the way of transformation, yet it’s more subtle than most believe, it’s not the proper path for seekers to travel, as it’s not really a path at all, but more truly a place to settle, and that change simply happens on its own.

there is no end result to our practice.

a self realized yogi is one who’s content with what each asana offers in the moment of it’s practice, not striving for perfection, there’s no stretch towards enlightenment. A yogi is transformed by this contentment, with the mindfulness of breath and posture being an alchemical process of turning our patience into the gold of accepting what the asana offers us in the moment of its hold.

we are transformed by virtue of commitment.

something magical seems to happen when we commit to a pose and then immediately come to a deep rest just after its release. There’s that moment of intense, yet relaxed concentration, and then followed by surrendering to a restful posture — that’s the way of transformation, it’s not through our effort to effect change, as that’s beyond our means and power.

we’re transformed by the grace of letting go.

every time we practice.

and that’s why it’s not the best path for seekers, there’s no horizon here to travel towards, no true end result to out practice. There’s just the commitment to each pose, our willingness to sit through the chatter of the mind until there comes a natural settling down. Everything arrives to us right here, or maybe it doesn’t arrive at all.

either way, we’re committed to the moment of our practice.

transformed by the grace of letting go.

~

Peace, Eric